


Try Not To Breathe

by nu_breed



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-18
Updated: 2007-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen always crushes on straight boys.  Jared always flirts.  Jensen thinks too much.  Jared doesn’t really think at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Not To Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Jensen made it so very easy this week with his schmoopy Jared comments and his ability to be intelligent and funny and a complete hotass and his breaking my heart in 2.21 and all that. Ginormous thanks to [](http://veronamay.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://veronamay.livejournal.com/)**veronamay** who cracked her beta whip severely and made this a hundred times better. Title from REM.

See the thing about Jared is, he flirts. With everyone. From fans on the street and their moms to Cindy in lighting, to that little blond twink Andy, who always gives Jared free frappuccinos at Starbucks. He just can’t help it. It’s in his make-up and it’s not like it means anything, aside from the fact that he’s pretty much the most personable guy that Jensen’s ever met, and he likes to make people feel good no matter who they are.

It was one of the things Jensen first noticed when they met. Jared held his hand for a few seconds too long when they were introduced and Jensen couldn’t help but notice how Jared looked at him, intense and focused like Jensen was the only other person there. Then there was that grin. It’s not like it was the first smile Jensen’d seen in his life, but this was L.A. and half the time, even the smiles are fake. When Jared smiles he means it. His eyes crinkle and for most of the guys Jensen knows, that would prompt them to get along to the doctor for their next botox jab. But the way Jared smiles, the way it reaches his eyes? It’s real and honest and inviting.

Jensen thought at first the flirting meant that maybe Jared was a complete slut, like Tom Welling who tries to fuck everything that moves within five minutes of meeting them. He was pretty positive Jared was into him and, sure, they had a job to do, but he was still all nervous laughter and intense gazes and Jensen felt like Jared was trying to see into his soul, or something. Or maybe just get into his pants.

That wouldn’t have been an issue in the past, but Jensen was trying like hell to stick to his new year’s resolution of not sleeping with co-stars, potential or otherwise. He’d managed it so far that year and he had to face the fact that a) it never ended well for either party and b) this gig is just the two of them. No room for baggage of any kind.

Jensen was disappointed; sure, normally Jared would be exactly his type. Tall and lean and pretty as hell. Jensen didn’t need to be disappointed for long, though. He just about died and struggled really hard, and failed, not to gape like a complete idiot when ten minutes into their first real, post-audition conversation, Jared opened up his wallet and proudly displayed Sandy’s picture before launching into a diatribe about how awesome she was. “She’s just. My soulmate, y’know? I’m gonna marry her someday.”

Jensen’s mouth turned up and that’s when he realised that Jared’s flirting was just as much a part of him as his dogs and apparently Sandy were. It dawned on him that when Jared starts talking to people, he can’t help himself and within seconds he’s usually smiling, wide and inviting and standing far too close. Jensen realised then that it meant nothing. That Jared really wasn’t trying to nail him.

Jared was as straight as he was tall and Jensen wasn’t quite sure why that bothered him as much as it did.

*

Jensen told Jared he was gay the weekend after they wrapped filming for the mid-season break. They’d been drinking since two p.m. after Jared sent him a text simply saying, “Sandy away. Bring beer.” Jared’s texts were always signed with smiley faces. From anyone else, that would be childish and obnoxious. Jared somehow managed to make it adorable.

Jared managed to make quite a lot of things adorable.

They were sitting on Jared’s floor, playing quarters and Jared started with one of his inane 'who would you rather…?' games. He took one huge gulp of beer and came out with, “Who would you kick out of bed, Jen? Aniston or Jolie?”

Jensen finished his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I. Wouldn’t…”

“Oh, I see,” Jared interrupted, dirty little twinkle in his eye, “why choose when you can have both, right?”

Jensen walked over to the fridge and grabbed another beer, popped the top off and took a sip. Steadied himself on the kitchen counter as he rubbed at his eyes. “Actually,” he started, not thinking about the fact that this was probably a supremely stupid idea. But fuck it; he didn’t think there was anything he couldn’t tell Jared.

“Actually,” he repeated as he walked back to where Jared was sitting and flopped down opposite him, “I wouldn’t have them in my bed to start with. Tell you the truth, man, I’m not *that* into girls.”

Jared tilted his head and squinted like he always did when he was really trying to listen. Jared was a damn good listener. “And when you say 'that into'?”

“Not like, into. At all.”

Jared bit his lip and paused for a few seconds, like he was really trying to process it all. Jensen wasn’t really sure just how this was going to go until Jared simply nodded, took a pull of his beer and nodded, said, “I think we need something stronger than beer. What kind of alcohol goes with the whole coming out thing, Jen? Tequila?"

Jensen nodded. Tequila seemed like about the best idea Jared had ever had. “I. So you really had no idea?”

Jared walked over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the Cuervo. “Apart from that one time you pushed me up against the wall and blew me? Nah.”

Jared’s sense of propriety was pretty much that he didn’t have one. Jensen rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the idea of Jared pushed against a wall, shirt rucked up and jeans unbuttoned.

Jared came back with tequila, no limes or salt; they were past that point. Jensen grabbed the bottle from him and chugged it back, letting the tequila warm his belly, anything to get the image of Jared out of his head.

Jared grabbed the bottle back and spilled some tequila on his fingers in the process. Jensen couldn’t help but feel dizzy when Jared stuck his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, tongue and lips chasing the alcohol.

“So.” Jared said, smiling as he took a long drink from the bottle. “Jensen Ackles, card-carrying homo, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Jared pouted for a second, and Jensen thought maybe Jared wasn’t as cool with this as he seemed, or maybe it was just the fact that Jensen had been at best withholding the truth and at worst lying to everyone the past few months and he felt betrayed, or something. But then Jared laughed and shook his head. “Man, with your fashion sense? I would’ve never thought…”

He punched Jensen in the shoulder, not hard, just enough to make a point, “I can’t believe it, dude. I fucking owe Manners a hundred bucks.”

*

Jensen woke up the next morning with the imprint of Jared’s carpet on his cheek and the most fucking awful hangover he’d had in years.

His head pounded and his mouth felt like some rodent had burrowed its way in there and died.

Jared was lying next to him, one arm flung over his head, still dead to the world. Jensen could see a patch of skin where Jared’s t-shirt was riding up. Skin that looked warm and tanned, and he wanted to run his tongue over it and see if it tasted as good as it looked.

Jensen thought that maybe being there any longer was a really, really bad idea. It wasn’t like he had a thing for Jared or anything; more like he was still half-drunk and horny and Jared just happened to be there.

That’s all it was.

He got up and scanned the room for his shoes. He thought he remembered leaving them by the front door after the pizza guy came, but he couldn’t see much with that bleary post-tequila glaze over everything.

Jared stirred and rolled over, then sat up slowly. “Jen, if you’re looking for your sneakers,” he groaned, “I think I slept on one of ‘em.”

Jared’s voice sounded rough, thick with tequila and sleep and it made Jensen’s belly roll over. Jared got up, throwing Jensen’s sneakers at him one after the other as he opened the ranch slider to get almost bowled over by two very excited, hungry and not at all sleep-deprived dogs.

“Christ.” Jared sniffed his armpit and grimaced. “I really need a shower. I stink something good. You need one?”

Jensen did need a shower; he reeked of all the alcohol seeping its way out of his pores as well as cigarettes (bad fucking habit but he only ever smoked when he drank) and sweat. And dog, because everything of Jared’s was laden with that smell which was so much a part of Jared, Jensen forgot that his own place didn’t smell like it.

Every time Jared talked about Harley and Sadie or saw them when they got brought onto set, his face lit up more than usual and there was so much more than mere joy there. There was love and respect and more pride than Jensen thought *he’d* ever had in anything.

Jensen loved that about Jared. Loved that there was so much there and he was so open and didn’t care who saw it. Jensen loved the way Jared would hug you like he was going to stop you from breathing and the way he dressed and the moles on his face and neck and back and how he was insecure about his physique even though he was more built than Jensen and the way he laughed with his head thrown back.

Jensen didn’t wait to take a shower; just mumbled that he’d call Jared later and grabbed his jacket and keys and got out of there, because all he needed right then was to be alone in his car, where he could think for a second and breathe without feeling like he was going to fucking hyperventilate.

It had happened again, and it left Jensen with an ache in his chest and a headache that wouldn't quit for the rest of the day. Damn it, he was so fucking sick of falling in love with the straight boy.

*

Jensen’s had crushes before. It's normal for him. Jensen crushes on just about everybody, and it's fine. A sick part of him even enjoys it because it never lasts long and it's like his little secret, pining away for a guy that would never want him back. It takes all the effort out of it, which is why straight guys are the easiest targets. He'll crush and obsess and eventually move on.

Until Jared Padalecki came along with his fucking stupid smile and his hands and his fucking ability to make Jensen completely, stupidly fixated.

Part of it’s the fact that Jared really is the biggest flirt that ever lived. Jared always leans in too close; the concept of personal space is completely foreign to him. Normally that kind of thing pisses Jensen off, makes him feel uncomfortable, claustrophobic. But with Jared? He doesn’t mind one bit. It starts to get awkward when they’re drunk though, when instead of just sharing Jensen’s space, Jared’s murmuring into his ear, breath ghosting across Jensen’s cheek, saying shit like, “Damn, Jen. How do you look like that after a whole day of fucking filming?” and when Jensen shrugs, Jared takes a pull on his beer and Jensen struggles not to watch the drops of moisture on Jared’s lips. Jared chases them with his tongue and moves in even closer if that’s at all possible. Jensen feels warm breath ghost across his cheek as Jared whispers, “I’d totally do you if I swung that way, you know that?”

Jensen kinda hates Jared a whole lot and he pulls back, watches Jared stumble a bit without Jensen there to hold him up, mutters, “Personal space, Jared, jeez.”

Jared just laughs and Jensen hates that. Hates that when it comes to Jared there’s this almost innate incapability on Jensen’s part of staying mad at him. That’s half of the problem right there, because in the past, Jensen’s always been able to get mad at the guys he’s crushing on, to hate them. It makes it easier to deal with, really. Jared’s an exception to every rule and when he puts an arm around him, Jensen tries to desperately pretend that this isn’t nice, that this isn’t exactly what he wants; Jared close and warm and pressed up against him.

He wants more than that, he’s not that delusional, of course he wants more. But he’ll take what he can get.

*

The one thing that amazes Jensen is the fact that ‘the Jared thing’, as Chris likes to call it, hasn’t affected his relationship with Jared detrimentally at all. If anything their bond is stronger, and they’re closer than they ever were.

This has its advantages, but it’s also fucked-up, because Jared’s always inviting Jensen to his place when Sandy’s in town and that’s just so fucking uncomfortable it makes Jensen’s stomach churn. He could say no, of course, but he’s truly, truly wrong in the head and having a small part of Jared, even if he has to share it, is better than nothing. Even if it’s Sandy he has to share it with, most perfect girlfriend in the history of girlfriends. Sandy must be as close to a female Jared as you can get, because Jensen is physically incapable of hating her too, and he really has tried.

That doesn’t stop him from getting nauseous when he has to watch them together, though. They’re just so perfect, cute and hot and nice and laughing all the time and Jensen laughs with them because it’s the only way to hide the huge Jared-sized hole that’s eroding inside him.

He always looks away when they kiss. Jensen doesn’t want to see Jared kissing Sandy, doesn’t need to imprint in his brain exactly what Jared looks like when he kisses someone, the way he holds the person’s face with one hand and pulls them in with the other, the way he just holds them in place like that while he takes their mouth, soft, but insistent.

Yeah, Jensen doesn’t need to know that at all. He’s got it all in his mind anyway.

Jensen knows he can’t keep doing this, playing happy families and putting up with Sandy offering to set him up with her publicist’s brother and all the crap that comes with watching Jared happy with someone who isn’t him.

He needs to at least try and pretend he’s over Jared and he can’t do that while watching him acting out happily-ever-afters with his perfect fucking girlfriend.

It’s been over a year since this thing first took hold of him and after all this time his head’s still all full of Jared. He wonders if maybe he’s deliberately holding onto it because he’s a fucking masochist and needs *something* to keep him occupied, keep him company on those nights when home seems so completely distant and unreachable.

He can’t even remember what it’s like to not feel like this. Raw and out of control and so fucking screwed-up that not even therapy could help. The only thing that might help is never having met Jared in the first place and he wants that even less than he wants to not be all wrung out over him. Crush or no crush, Jared’s about the best thing that ever happened to him.

The next time Sandy’s in Vancouver, Jensen doesn’t go over for dinner or to watch the game. He just sits in his apartment getting drunk and high and watching Arrested Development on DVD in an attempt to shut his brain off.

It doesn’t work, but he knows what will.

Jensen’s not in a fit state to drive, so he calls a cab. The driver, Nick, has a daughter who’s having her thirteenth birthday and Jensen politely wishes her a happy birthday when he gets Nick’s phone thrust in his face.

He gets there eventually, with his eardrums barely intact from the teenaged shrieking and sits at the bar, losing track of how much he’s had to drink, how much blow he’s done. There’s an acrid burn at the back of his throat and his skin’s tight and uncomfortable. He waits it out because he knows exactly what he’s looking for. Someone who doesn’t do a double take when they look at him, because the last thing he needs is to end up on Perez Fucking Hilton dot com. Someone he can take back to the apartment.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this, not the first time Jared’s got him coiled so tight he just had to. He always manages to find the right one, a guy who’s tall and broad across the shoulders. Preferably with shaggy brown hair and a pretty smile. A boy who’ll drop to his knees and go down on Jensen without having to be asked, while Jensen tangles his fingers in the guy’s hair and closes his eyes, imagining Jared’s warm, wet mouth on him. It makes him come quick and hard; totally forgetting the other guy is there at all.

*

Sandy gets a film gig in London, shooting for thirteen weeks and suddenly Jared’s hanging out at Jensen’s trailer, turning up on his doorstep constantly. Wanting to, “Y’know. Just hang?”

Jared spends so much time ‘ just hanging’ with him that Jensen gives Jared a key to his apartment. It's so profoundly stupid he can’t even begin to touch on it. Easily the worst idea he’s ever had in a whole lifetime of bad ideas to choose from.

This isn’t the ideal situation, not by a long shot. Jensen’s managed to talk himself out of a lot the last few months and there’s times when he manages to convince himself that this ‘thing’ he has for Jared’s gone, or at the very least dissipated somewhat.

He’s managed to go on autopilot because that’s the way he copes. Not thinking, just doing and if he fucks five, six guys a week because that’s the only thing that fills the fucking void that he damn well feels every morning when he gets in the car with Jared, then so be it. If dropping to his knees and blowing the entire fucking male population of Vancouver is what it takes to get Jared out of his head, then that’s what he’s going to do.

Dean’s not the only one who could hold a fucking lecture series in self-abuse and avoidance.

The problem is, he’s so completely screwed he can’t even be in the same room with Jared anymore. Not when it’s just ‘them’, when there’s not the added distraction of Sam and Dean, when all he has to focus on is Jared, there and stupidly hot the way he squints when they run lines, the way he lies sprawled on Jensen’s couch, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle. He’s so Young Hollywood now with his recreational drug-use and his binge-drinking and his Versace jeans and his weekly massages and facials. He’s more jaded now, Jensen thinks, and that’s kind of a shame, but it’s also sexy as hell when Jared’s nuzzled in close, all pliant and soft and grinning inanely with alcohol on his breath.

“We should go out tonight,” he slurs and Jensen tries not to look at Jared, teeth worrying his lower lip as he hauls all 200 plus pounds of himself up from the sofa. Tries not to, but doesn’t succeed and all he can focus on is how red Jared’s mouth looks and how he wants to just lean in and take it, chasing the taste of bourbon with his tongue.

Jensen adjusts himself, cock growing hard and confined in his jeans. “Too tired, man. Maybe next weekend, okay?”

Jared bends down and pulls Jensen towards him with one hand on the back of his head and Jensen can feel the heat of Jared’s fingers, making his scalp tingle and his jeans get tighter and tighter. “Cool. Let’s stay here, then.” Jared brushes his lips against Jensen’s and Jensen jumps back, like when he touched his uncle’s electric fence when he was nine. Jolt of something even more powerful here and now, though and he rubs the bridge of his nose trying to think of anything other than the fact that Jared just kissed him and now Jensen knows what the imprint of Jared’s mouth feels like against his.

“What the.” Jensen tries to keep the quaver out of his voice, but he knows he sounds shaky as all hell. "What was that?”

Jared shrugs. “I dunno. Nothing, I guess.”

And that’s the god-honest truth. Jared didn’t kiss him because he wanted to. Jared misses Sandy and he’s drunk and not thinking. More importantly, he’s Jared and Jared always does shit like that, hugging and touching and kissing and Jensen’s a fool if he thinks there’s anything more in it than that.

No matter how much he wishes it were different.

*

Jensen’s never wanted to go to a wrap party less than this one. The last few weeks of shooting haven’t exactly been easy on him and he’s so exhausted that all he wants to do is go back to his place and sleep for a week. Having Sam, having _Jared_ , fall into his arms and fucking die right there on camera was a mind-fuck Jensen could have quite happily lived his entire life without.

It doesn’t help that Jared seems to have escaped unscathed from the whole thing. Jensen would love to be able to do that, just laugh it off and spend the entire evening having a good time, laughing with the crew, smoking up with Sera and eating. Always eating.

“You should try the crab cakes.” Jared tackles Jensen, munches in his ear. “They’re awesome.”

Jensen pats him on the shoulder and heads straight for the bar.

“You look like shit.” Sera kisses him on the cheek and falls down into the nearest chair, picks at her piece of cake, which before it was cut was part of the left headlight of the Impala. Dips her finger in the icing and offers it to him.

Jensen sits down next to her and takes a big sip from his beer. “Yeah, well, y’all put me through the wringer this week.”

She shakes her head. “Boy, you need to let go. Last thing you need tonight is to share that space,” she points to his head, “with Dean fucking Winchester. That shit’ll drive you crazy, y’know?”

Jensen nods. There’s no point correcting her on it, because she’s half-right, but he wishes that’s all it was. He tips his drink towards her, “Here’s to you, Sera. Any writer who manages to squeeze gay porn onto network TV gets my vote.”

She kisses him again, on the lips this time and then pulls back to look him straight in the eye. Sera's eyes are really fucking intense, especially when she’s stoned. “That was just for you, honey. You take it easy, okay?”

He kisses her back and stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “You, uh, seen Jared?”

“Not recently,” she says around a mouthful of cake. “I think he said something about going back to his trailer.”

Jensen mouths a thank-you, finishes his beer and walks briskly to the trailer. Jensen’s got half a mind to chew him out for getting too wasted and tell him to get his ass back out there, because Jensen needs his wingman.

He half expects to open Jared’s trailer door to find him passed out on the couch; the boy drinks like a fish, but once he hits the wall, that’s it, and he’s been drinking since early afternoon.

What he doesn’t expect to see when he opens the door is Jared, sitting on the sofa with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, jeans undone and Justin, the new PA, between Jared’s legs, mouth working Jared’s cock like a fucking pro.

Jared’s getting his dick sucked by a guy. He can’t even say it in his head without wanting to burst out laughing. Normally seeing this in front of him would be hot beyond belief, but Jensen’s in complete fucking shock over what’s happening that he’s not even thinking about anything beyond the million questions running through his head.

He clears his throat, and Justin pulls away so quickly he overbalances. His mouth is all used and red. Jensen watches Jared go pale, the expression on his face turning within seconds from pleasure to shock to something that looks a lot like regret.

Jared tucks himself back in his jeans and Jensen looks away because it feels wrong, feels like he’s intruding and it’s not hot, not sexy at all. It just makes his stomach cramp and makes him want to throw up.

Justin stands up and wipes at his mouth, his mouth that seconds ago, Jared was fucking, and that thought just seems so completely fucking foreign and erroneous. Jensen just looks at Justin, glares at him, because he can’t fucking look at Jared right now. He can’t deal with it.

“Jensen,” Justin stammers, “just give me a sec and I’ll get outta here. Just don’t tell anyone, please?”

He starts collecting his things, t-shirt, jacket and shoes and Jensen laughs, hollow and icy. “You know what? Don’t stop on account of me. Go at it. You might wanna lock the door, though.”

“Jen.” Jared’s voice is cracked and raspy, barely above a whisper.

Jensen’s hands are clenched, fingernails digging into his palms and he shakes his head, cutting Jared off. “Not right now, Jared. Just. Don’t.”

Jensen turns and walks out the door and tries to stop himself from crumbling.

*

When Jensen gets inside his apartment and flicks the light-switch, he’s not surprised to find Jared on the sofa, arms crossed over his knees, looking at the floor. He ignores him for a minute, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter and trying to just breathe.

He gets two beers out of the refrigerator without even thinking twice about it and flips the caps off, watching them fall on the floor and leaving them there, not caring enough to throw them in the garbage.

He puts Jared’s beer on the table in front of him and takes a big chug of his own beer and sits on the arm of the sofa, half-facing Jared, the distance between them hanging as heavy as the silence.

When that silence is broken, Jensen’s as surprised as Jared is that he’s the one to break it.

“How’d you get here first?” He still doesn’t look at Jared, just concentrates on the cool glass bottle in his hand, pushing at the label with his thumbnail.

Jared inhales, sharply. “Left the party before you did. I saw you head for your trailer. Knew you’d be there for ages. Overthinking things.” Jared smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.

“Got some questions for you, Jared. Got a whole fucking heap of questions.” Jensen looks at him then and Jared avoids his eyes, looks down at the carpet again.

“What if I don’t have all the answers?”

Jensen finishes his beer and slams the bottle down on the table. It’s louder than he means to do it and Jared flinches, reaches for his own beer for the first time.

“Try.” Jensen says through gritted teeth. “We have all night.” He puts his feet up on the coffee table. “Looking at me would be a good start.”

Jared drinks his beer, drinks all of it and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jensen has to look away until Jared’s finished, not wanting this to be another situation where he gets distracted by cheap, Jared-type tricks and diversions.

Jared lifts his head slowly, finally looks up and meets Jensen’s gaze. “So ask away.” Jared’s voice is thin and expressionless and doesn’t even sound like him.

Jensen huffs out a breath. “Shit, Jared, where the hell do I start? Wanna tell me about Sandy again? How she’s your soulmate? How you’re gonna marry her? Or shall we just stick to the fact that I found you tonight with a guy’s mouth on your cock?”

_A guy that wasn’t me._

“We broke up,” Jared whispers. “She likes England. She’s staying there.” He looks down at his feet again. “She said she’d wait for me, but you know, that could be forever and, well, we weren’t like we used to be.”

“When? When did it happen?” Jensen asks, still reeling over the fact that the world’s most perfect couple weren’t so perfect.

Jared swallowed. “Two months ago.”

“Two months? Two fucking months, Jared?” Jensen didn’t know. All that time and he didn’t know. More importantly, all that time and Jared didn’t fucking tell him. Jared tells him everything.

“Should've told you.” Jared sounds so broken and it almost makes Jensen want to quit with the grilling, just go over there and give his friend a hug because the thought of Jared dealing with that on his own for two months just about breaks Jensen’s heart. It goes a way toward explaining some things, but not everything.

Jensen gets up and moves closer to Jared on the sofa. Sits facing him and bites his lower lip before continuing. “So. What? You figured the best way to get over your girlfriend was to throw yourself at the first guy that came along?”

“He wasn’t the first.”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “Who was then? Tim in props? Matt from security?”

“Who do you fucking think?”

Jensen feels his skin prickle, heart pounding like crazy and he has to look away now because Jared’s gaze has so much weight in it that it’s too much, too uncomfortable. “You don’t even like guys, Jared, what the fuck do you even think you’re doing?”

Jared scratches at his belly and Jensen’s mesmerised by that strip of skin again, feels like a lifetime ago that he fell for his friend, crashed out on the floor with empty tequila bottles and dog-hair for company.

“I do. I have y’know, before.”

“Fuck, Jared, then what the hell was with that ‘I’d do you if I swung that way’ bullshit? Huh?”

Jared grimaces and doesn’t answer for what feels like about five minutes. “Wasn’t sure what to do. I. There was Sandy and I loved her and I guess I just wanted to see if. Y’know,” he shrugs, “if you’d wait.”

Jensen groans out loud because this just makes no sense in his head at all. It’s like one of the constant dreams he’s had over the last fucking year and a half, Jared telling him that it’s cool, he’s into guys and he knows Jensen wants him and they always end with Jared begging Jensen to fuck him and Jensen wishing that he never had to wake up.

“That’s fucking unfair, Jay. That’s a fucking bullshit way to treat a friend.” He shakes his head. “You screwed up big, y’know. You should’ve waited for _me_.”

“I know.” Jared faces Jensen, hugs himself, looking every inch the gangly teenager Jensen imagines he was a lifetime ago. “I did try to kiss you.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.” Jensen grabs Jared and hauls him across his lap, mouth covering Jared’s and finally, fucking finally they’re kissing. Properly this time, not an innocent brush of lips while one of them figures out if it’s what the other wants. Jared’s mouth is warm and open and he tastes so fucking good and Jensen can’t believe they’ve wasted all this time. Two fucking months.

So much longer than that, too.

Jared moans as Jensen sucks on his tongue, cants his hips forward and all of a sudden Jensen can feel him, hard and fucking perfect and the friction’s sweet but it’s not enough, not nearly fucking enough.

“I didn’t. Ah, fuck, Jensen. Didn’t get off after you left. Wanted to save it for you, just for you. Wanted us to end up just like this.”

“Christ.”

Jared smiles and grinds against Jensen; slow and dirty and Jensen feels like his skin’s on fire. “Want you on my bed,” he mouths against Jared’s cheek. “Want to see you spread out under me.”

Jared just nods, gets up and heads for the bedroom first. As soon as Jensen’s through the door, Jared’s pushing him against the wall, unbuttoning his pants and drawing them down as he drops to his knees, mouthing the hard outline of Jensen’s dick through his briefs; obscene and lewd and watching Jensen the whole time with those fucking eyes that are darker and more intense than Jensen’s ever seen them.

“Oh Jesus, Jared,” he manages to get out even though his voice feels stuck. Jared’s fucking mouth is better than all the fantasies he dreamed up put together. It’s even better when Jared pulls Jensen's briefs down and licks one long wet stripe up his cock and Jensen thinks if he’s not careful he’s going to shoot right then and there. When Jared takes Jensen’s entire length into his mouth, just fucking goes _down_ on him, Jensen struggles to think about anything except _heatandwet_ and _holy fuck, he must’ve done this before._

Jensen’s head goes back and he’s not going to last long at all. This is so fucking good but it’s not what he wants, and he’s pushing Jared off him, getting one hand behind his neck and pulling him up so that Jensen can kiss him again, taste himself on Jared’s mouth and whisper into it, “Wanna fuck you. Need to.”

Jared groans and gets out of his clothes and shoes so quickly it’s like they were never on him in the first place. Jensen just takes one look at him, scans his whole body and Jesus, there’s so much hiding under those shirts that are half a size too big for him; masses of skin and hard, hard muscle and Jensen just wants to run his hands slowly all over him, taste every inch, but not now. Jensen strips his shirt off and throws it halfway across the room, kicks off his jeans and the rest of his clothes like he’s on autopilot.

“God,” Jared whispers as he lies down, hands behind his head and watching Jensen the whole time as he throws a roll of condoms and lube on the bed next to him. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Jensen laughs as he slicks his fingers and sucks on Jared’s hipbone, hard enough to bruise because he wants this, wants to mark him and make him pay for all that stupidly wasted time, give him marks to remind Jared just how much he belongs here with Jensen. How he always has.

He licks Jared’s cock, just once, does it slow and rough and it’s a tease, but he wants Jared to remember it for a long time. Wants to erase the memory of Jared ever having anyone else’s mouth on him. He feels Jared shiver underneath him, feels that flutter of muscles and Jared’s growling, “Do it, fucking do it,” as Jensen spreads him, gets Jared’s thighs open and up and pushes two fingers inside him. Fucking tight heat and he can see Jared bite down on his lip and twist his fingers in the sheets under him and Jensen slides his own fingers out, all the way, pushing back in and twisting hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” Jared groans out. “Need you in me, Jen. Please just do it.”

Jensen nods and his fingers shake as he tears the foil packet and somehow manages to roll the condom over his dick. He’s fucking nervous and that’s just ridiculous because he’s lost count of the number of times he’s done this, but it’s _Jared_ and this is different and fucking scary if he stops to think about it and he can’t do that right now. Always overthinking everything, he knows that and Jared’s cuffing him on the side of the head, narrowing his eyes and saying, “Don’t you go anywhere else, you damn idiot. Just fuck me. Okay?”

Jensen nods and does it, spreads Jared open even wider, holds his thighs as he inches inside him as slow as he can, but probably not slow enough and Jared bites down hard on his lip as Jensen thrusts all the way in and starts moving inside Jared with long, hard strokes.

He kisses him then, sucks Jared’s tongue into his mouth and swallows Jared’s moans, stays like that for a few seconds, just kissing him and biting at his lips, teeth grazing Jared’s jaw. Murmurs, “Touch yourself, Jared, wanna see you.” Jensen watches Jared reach down, stroking himself fast, rough and he’s so fucking glad they did it this way, so glad he can see Jared’s face.

Jensen pulls back, sliding almost completely out and grins, smirks as he sees Jared look disappointed for all of two seconds, before he slams back in, deeper than ever and he feels Jared clench around him, hears him fucking yell, watches Jared as he comes all over his chest, his head thrown back and his eyes shut tight.

So fucking good feeling Jared tight around him like that, so much tighter than before and he looks so fucked-out and used and Jensen forgets about being careful, holds Jared there and just drives into him over and over again. Jared grabs the headboard for leverage and grinds his hips down, meeting Jensen’s thrusts and it’s too good, all of it, too fucking perfect. Jared’s too tight, too hot and Jensen feels his orgasm hit and he’s losing it, gasping for breath, his fingernails digging into Jared’s hips and his hair plastered to his forehead.

It takes all the energy he can muster to pull out and throw the knotted condom in the trash; feels like he’s given everything he can possibly give and then some and Jared’s just lying there, arms above his head and grinning that stupid inane, Cheshire Cat grin that he always gets when he’s wasted.

Jensen sits opposite Jared, cross-legged with his hands clasped under his chin and about fifty conflicting thoughts running through his head.

“I didn’t like it.” he says.

Jared just raises an eyebrow.

“Having you die on me. I hated it. Fucked with my head.”

Jared just nods.

Jensen stares at a spot on the carpet, where he spilled red wine and tried to soak it up with table salt but it left a stain that he’s never getting out.

“You’re overthinking again, aren’t you?” Jared says as he scratches his belly. “You’ll give yourself an aneurysm one of these days, I swear.”

Jensen is about as transparent as cellophane and he wishes Jared didn’t see through him so well.

*

Jensen wakes up far too late to the sound of banging coming from his kitchen. Jared's in there, making pancakes the only way he knows how, with the least amount of finesse and the largest amount of bother. Jensen’s kitchen looks wrecked with eggshells in the sink and flour all over the floor and Jared practically elbow-deep in batter.

Jared doesn’t know how to do anything quietly. Jensen’s kitchen looks like Jensen’s life did as soon as Jared came into it, stomping all over everything with his huge feet and his killer smile and his big-ass flirting and his candy obsession and his place that smells of dog.

Jensen’s life was ordered once and now it’s like a fucking tornado hit it. Jared’s all chaos and bluster, like a natural disaster and Jensen’s happy to just go with it for now, to let it take him anywhere it likes.

 

 

 

end

This fic is followed by a timestamp, [here](http://nu-breed.livejournal.com/102976.html?format=light).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Timestamp Fic#1 (Jensen/Jared) NC-17](https://archiveofourown.org/works/760182) by [nu_breed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed)




End file.
